


Golf Balls and Feety Pajamas

by TheGoldenShadow



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Crime Fighter!Bonnie - Freeform, F/F, Partner!Kim - Freeform, Public Nudity, accidental nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27513490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoldenShadow/pseuds/TheGoldenShadow
Summary: Bonnie Rockwaller is the world-renowned crime fighter, with her partner Kim. She only wishes that Kim had the balls to admit that they could be more than that.
Relationships: Kim Possible/Bonnie Rockwaller
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Golf Balls and Feety Pajamas

It didn’t take much to get Bonnie Rockwaller into the Possible household. Kim was pretty sure that her parents knew her pretenses for doing so were less than honest, but they had yet to bring it up in conversation outside gentle ribbing and the odd sly comment.

After all, asking for a babysitter at sixteen was hardly a normal occurrence. Spinning it into having a _second_ babysitter to help babysit her demonic little brothers fared better when presenting her argument, however. Barely.

Especially after switching from the former argument to the latter.

If they had indeed come to the conclusion that Kim was crushing _hard_ on Bonnie, then she wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. Though she liked to think that they were at least a little in the dark.

“You know your parents totally think we’re fucking, right?”

A blush spread up through Kim’s cheeks. “Yeah… I know.”

So much for that.

Though if that was the case, her parents were being pretty cool about the whole thing. More than cool, in fact. There weren’t a lot of parents that would dare leave two teenagers alone in the house together, even if they were together under the flimsy pretense of babysitting two vaguely self-preserving children.

Maybe it was because they were girls?

Maybe it was because they were crime-fighting partners?

Maybe it was because Kim wore feety pajamas?

Or maybe her parents were just that chill about the whole thing? There hadn’t been much of a reaction at all to Kim coming out of the closet. Her father was even less protective than he used to be, perhaps because _boys_ were no longer a part of the equation. Whether that was a good or bad reaction, Kim didn’t know. She did appreciate it, however. If anything, the hardest part was getting the tweebs to shut up about their sister getting more luck with the girls than they did.

Creepy, but oddly appreciated.

Bonnie pet her hand through Kim’s hair, cooing all the while. “Aww, my little sidekick is embarrassed.”

Even if it wasn’t entirely accurate.

Kim didn’t exactly _get_ all the girls. Everyone said that she could have, if she wanted. Any girl she wanted. But there was only one girl that she really wanted, and she was almost entirely sure that Bonnie wanted her, too.

With Bonnie, that didn’t make things any less difficult.

“You… want a drink?” Kim asked, before thinking her words over. “Like, a soda.”

Bonnie quickly laughed, bringing her feet up onto the couch into a comfortable curl. “Of course, soda. Stealing alcohol without _actually_ getting caught is thing, sweetie.”

There was the teasing, the pet names. The sheer comfort Bonnie took when staying at Kim’s house. All the signs of a potential partner were there in front of her, and Kim only hoped she was sending the same signals back.

But comfortable was the correct word for Bonnie; if she wanted to take their relationship further than teasing and flirting, Bonnie wasn’t going to be the one to make the first move.

Which also felt very much like her. She was sure of herself; she was confident. She was the lead cheerleader. Bonnie Rockwaller did not do the asking. If you wanted to be with Bonnie, you had no chance unless you grew a pair and did it yourself.

It was just a risky tactic, if said asking risked your working relationship. And everything else that came with it.

Unless you were Bonnie, of course. Bonnie would never say directly to Kim, but she knew. She saw all the signs. She saw Kim looking her up and down whenever the redhead thought Bonnie wasn’t looking. She saw the minor changes in attitude whenever certain things were said at just the right moment.

She noticed the way Kim looked at her after a mission well done. She _knew_.

And Bonnie loved watching Kim squirm as she struggled with taking that next step. Bonnie knew that Kim liked her; she was secure in that same knowledge. There was no reason she couldn’t enjoy the interim period. She would most happily be with Kim.

Kim just needed to get through that wall and ask her first. Would she be stronger for it? Sure. Would Bonnie enjoy watching her struggle before she got there?

Definitely.

Kim wandered back from the kitchen, the gentle pitter patter of her feety pajamas rubbing against the lush fabric of the carpet. The movie playing on tv fell into the background as Bonnie eyed her fluffy little bunny up and down. You would think that covering up would make Kim less attractive, but it was entirely the opposite; all wrapped up, she was something cute to cuddle. She was small. She was pretty.

Maybe Kim would find that confidence Bonnie had, one day. Maybe she would have it already if she had actually made the cheerleading squad first try back in middle school.

In the meantime, this small fluffy Kim and her giant onesie were more than enough for Bonnie.

Kim gently shook a can. “Lemonade?”

“Hmm… acceptable.”

With the ‘tweebs’ paid off and upstairs, it left Bonnie with time to play. As smart as they were, as busy as they got with their toys, they were still kids. A few dollars here and there, or a new game and they were good for a few nights.

They always came back, but between their actual sister putting her foot down and Bonnie supplying a little incentive every now and then, there was rarely trouble whilst babysitting.

Once Bonnie was gone, it was a different story. But that wasn’t on shift, so it wasn’t her problem. Not unless Kim and herself got a lot closer tonight than she thought.

She wouldn’t mind that, so long as she had the privacy to enjoy it.

Legs up on the couch, Bonnie settled back as Kim joined her. She sat in the crook of Bonnie’s legs, shuffling her little behind into place before resting her head against Bonnie toned bicep.

It was moments like this that Bonnie wondered why Kim hadn’t taken it upon herself to admit her feelings. What other criteria fit the situation they were in? Kim in her pajamas and snuggling into Bonnie’s shoulder? She knew that the term ‘gal pals’ was thrown around a lot, but in this one instance she was very much inclined to agree. Whether Kim thought this would help, or get Bonnie talking, Bonnie herself didn’t know.

Which meant teasing was surely in order. “Comfy?”

Kim visibly stiffed. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to–“

“Not comfy?” Bonnie interrupted. She stretched her body out, letting the tiredness in her joints click before tapping her stomach. “It’s comfier up here.”

The stomach was technically lower than the shoulder, Kim thought… but decided that now was not the time. “U-Uh, sure! Sure.”

As implied, Kim began lowering her head onto Bonnie’s stomach, somewhat unsure how this arrangement was going to work. At the last moment, Bonnie hoisted Kim up by her underarms, resting her burning cheeks against the weight of Bonnie’s breasts.

“There we go,” Bonnie cooed. She wrapped her own arms around Kim, taking in the softness of it all. The slight give in her muscles, the fluff of the pajamas tickling the tiny hairs on her skin. “Isn’t that better?”

“I-“

“There’s not a lot of _soft_ in the shoulders, sweetie. You should really know this sort of thing by now.”

Bonnie couldn’t see Kim’s eyes, but she liked to imagine the were wide and scared. Not for any sort of safety; Bonnie was a lot of things to Kim, but she wasn’t cruel. Even if she did enjoy the thought of having such a power over someone so close to her.

No, she liked to imagine they were frightened with all the prospects that Kim’s face against her breasts implied. Perhaps it wouldn’t push Kim over the edge into announcing how she felt, but it would definitely push her over some sort of edge. It would be a treat to find out which kind.

Or it would have, if Wade hadn’t gotten in touch.

Museum.

Killigan.

Golf balls.

Pain in the ass.

Not that it wasn’t expected; the week had been quiet enough. Too quiet. Something had to fill in that time and the bad guys were far too inconsiderate to take a week off.

The building was old, ornate and large. Older than retro on the outside with all the perks of modern life sleeping within. The aging statues and exhibits were kept immaculate, safe from the passage of time as people less interesting than Bonnie Rockwaller spent their free time looking at things older than their ancestors.

Bonnie didn’t get it. Kim seemed to, though; despite their urgency, her eyes wandered over the scant few exhibits they passed on their way to the second floor. If it wasn’t for their tip from the police or Wade’s intel, then the semi-frequent pattern of taps against stone were more than enough to clue them in as to who was there and where there was.

And course, there Killigan definitely was, playing off a low balcony as if it was the prized range at a stale resort.

One step in the room, and a ball hit a tapestry on the far side of the room. An almost green liquid spread over the fabric until the entire thing was nothing more than goop on the floor.

Then another ball whizzed passed their heads, bouncing once on the hallway behind them and shattering just like the one before it.

“Watch it, Highlander,” Bonnie growled. “Not that you’d understand, but I like my skin. I put work into it!”

“Ah, the lassie brigade.” He stopped mid swing, leaning over a thick stone bannister. “Dinnae worry yer wee heads. I play a safe game.”

“With acid balls.” Bonnie bemoaned. “Yeah, totally not dangerous.”

“Ha! Get off ma case, Rockwaller. They’re dermatologically tested!”

He never used guns.

Her never used energy weapons.

He didn’t even use henchman. Not a single one. But Duff Killigan was still a dangerously huge pain in the ass.

“Fore!”

Bonnie and Kim had just enough time to dive to their right as a second golf ball shot past their heads. It collided hard with the back wall, cracking under the pressure before shattering into nothing as the acid inside broke free. All over another tapestry.

“These are priceless works of art, Killigan!” Kim’s retort could do nothing to save it, however.

“Aye, and my employer will be in possession of an even more priceless collection when all the others are black and melty on the floor!”

He pulled out a second club, dropping several balls onto the floor in the same swift motion. Then he was swinging both arms. “Fore!”

The balls flew into the main exhibit, some breaking apart as they hit concrete. Other sticking tight to any fabric they touched before dissolving the fibers into a molten liquid on the marble floor.

“Fore! Five!” And there was more where that came from. “Six, seven, eight!”

Bonnie was not the lead cheerleader for nothing. She had been since her arrival in high school. Shifting through the air brought a degree of control than not even she could achieve on the ground, and with it less chances to be hit by tiny projectiles.

And even then, she was quick enough to swivel and kick any that got too close.

Not that Kim was much worse. She had talent, that was for sure. She had shown that even in the try-outs in middle school, even if she didn’t quite make it the first time around. She could have even been captain herself one day, if her nerves didn’t get the best of her. Assuming Bonnie wasn’t present, of course.

It was no surprise to see Kim doing as well as Bonnie was. Her technique was on point; swift, light. Shifting through the air like a controlled feather in the wind.

At the same time, she could be just as clumsy. Elegant though it was, a feather did not always have control without a pretty bird to keep it in check.

Too close to Killigan, too eager to pin him down, he quickly turned and slammed his sizable carry big into her stomach. “No touchin’ the goods, lass!”

She was skipped back to the ground and across the floor like a pebble, only just avoiding several golf balls as they shattered on the floor around her.

But it was enough of a distraction. Jumping up one more time, Bonnie caught one of the balls in her hand. Tossing it back into the air and forcing all momentum into her foot through a swift backflip sent it flying back to sender.

Not into his forehead, as she had wished. Unlike Killigan, Bonnie was not that good a shot. Catching the hip of his kilt, however?

More than enough to get back at him.

He noticed straight away, too. The tartan pattern below his belt shriveled, the smell of burning fibers filling the air.

“Aw, shite…”

Much like the tapestries, it took seconds for the acid to spread and eat through the fabric of his garb. Even the thick wool of his socks wasn’t safe from the brief splash that had followed the initial contact.

Until only the Scottish tam on his head remained.

The onslaught of golf balls stopped; his clubs returned to their holder as his hands moved to another set of ball entirely. Bonnie couldn’t help but laugh. Kim joined her.

Duff’s cheeks burned about as brightly as the rage digging into his voice. “It’s cold, awright?”

And even he wasn’t stupid enough to stick around without his clothes on. Bonnie could only assume the golf bag was made from some sort of resistant material; part of her hoped that the bag would just disintegrate with everything else, but holding acid in a container that could be destroyed by said acid was just that little bit to incompetent for Duff, it seemed.

Tail very much between his legs, he turned and ran. They could have given chase, but there was little point. Bonnie didn’t want to see a naked Scotsman and his shriveled golf balls any more than she assumed Kim did.

That, and he’d have to go outside, regardless. Either way, he wasn’t getting home easy.

To Kim’s mind, the mission was a success. Mostly. Several priceless tapestries were now simply gone, with a scant few damaged by virtue of only being hit by a few drops of acid. Too little to spread, but too much for the art to take.

But they’d saved some of them, and that was the most you could hope for some days.

“Did you see his balls?” Bonnie suddenly guffawed, punching Kim in the arm. “I thought Scottish guys were used to the cold.”

“Ugh, don’t even try and remind me. I’m never going to look at him the same way again.”

A hubbub outside very much tipped them off that the police had finally arrived. If previous experience had taught them, the press were likely not far behind. There were only so many evil villains that could attack the city before the tabloids learned that they were safe enough to follow… so long as Bonnie and Kim were on the scene first.

Who knew, maybe they’d get a shot of Duff in the buff.

Leaving the museum confirmed as much. Several officers approached them, asking simple questions before running into the museum themselves. Likely in the hopes they could find the criminal of the day or find some evidence to use against him. Not that there was any doubt as to who had assaulted a museum with _golf balls_ , but they had a job to do. As stupid as they could be about it.

And much like always reporters were taking photographs.

Bonnie airily waved. The attention, that she loved. The adoration, the thanks of the city. They made her feel important. She was a hero; she knew she was important. But having the city remind her every other day was a great stroke to her otherwise feral ego.

Kim, not so much. Her wave was a tired thing, almost insecure. If there was ever to be a scoop over a mistake, it often involved her. Bonnie appreciated the scapegoat, but it did little to improve Kim’s sense of self-worth. Likely another reason why Kim had failed to commit.

To her credit, it looked like she was about to say something to the press when another voice piped up instead.

“Insult _my_ balls, will ye?” Duff called from the room. He wielded his golf bag with pride, held over his front. “Let’s see how you like it!”

He tipped the whole thing over.

And Bonnie was shoved out of the way.

She fell off the steps of the museum, into a bush to the side. Uncomfortable, but welcome compared to being pelted by golf balls filled with pervy naked acid.

Kim had been the one who pushed her to the side. She was not so lucky.

Head to toe, Bonnie could see her drenched in the stuff. For the split few seconds before the fabric began to fray, she had imagined that it wasn’t going to work, against all logic. That somehow the effect was finished now that Duff was out of the picture.

It _was_ against all logic. Kim’s clothes melted away faster than a lonely scoop of ice cream in the Sahara. Quickly, and without much fanfare.

A few police officers and photographers didn’t fare much better. Several lost their own clothes to the acid, curling in on themselves as they struggled to cover themselves up without throwing their expensive equipment quickly to the floor. The police were quick to grab their guns, so kudos to them for being somewhat responsible.

No one really took notice of them, however. Not when Kim Possible was naked in front of the museum.

One arm was held tight to her chest as the other stretched down below her waist. Enough to cover the important aspects, but not enough to save her dignity.

Not when the remaining reporters all continued to take photographs. A few of the naked ones, too.

The poor thing was almost to tears. Bonnie found she rather liked the sight, as much as she could sympathize. She struggled to push up from the bush, but that only allowed her a few more moments to watch as a good few weeks of ridicule from their peers was born right in front of her.

But once again, Bonnie was not so cruel to her little pet.

“Yeah, naked girl. We get it.” She pulled off her black top and slid it over Kim. Her own sports bra was enough to keep her happy. It was not enough to offer Kim complete control of her body, but it freed the arm covering her chest. “I see any photoshop jobs or anything more than a bit of stomach and I’m going to sue your ass.”

That’s when she noticed someone in particular behind the rest of the reporters. Or two people, to put it more accurately. One was a woman in a fine blue suit. Pencil skirt, likely a pair of comfortable shoes, despite the otherwise impeccable outfit.

The other was a girl holding a camera.

… Shit.

Getting out of there was easy enough. Another reporter handed over his jacket whilst the rest shifted out of Bonnie’s way. Whether that was because they sympathized with Kim or they dared not approach Bonnie, it wasn’t entirely clear. But soon they were in a police car with a very quiet pair of officers, heading back to Kim’s place.

The ‘babysitting’ gig had been cut abruptly short, but that was the life of the world-renowned ass-kickers that were Bonnie Rockwaller and Kim Possible. Deliciously naked Kim aside, a few hours was quick by their standards. Duff Killigan was going to get his ass kicked the next time he reared his ugly mug. And Bonnie wouldn’t stop Kim if she was the one that went for him first.

As was the usual when a mission came up, Tim and Jim were using the chance to binge on junk food and watch television. Kim dashed to her room the first moment she had, ignoring anything and everything else on the way. The house could have been ablaze and Drakken on the doorstep and she wouldn’t have cared.

“She… uh, gonna be okay?” Tim eventually asked.

Either they had watched the news and gotten to know their sister more than they had wanted, or they’d heard about the debacle on social media.

Either way, even Bonnie had to admit that it was cute that they cared. All the ribbing she saw often implied to the contrary. “Probably. I’m sure Wade will scrub _something_ to get rid of what he can.” He was good like that. He seemed to favor Kim more than he did Bonnie, but for all the work he put in, Bonnie was willing to put up with it. “Gonna rip out Killigan’s nutsack and shove it down his throat next time I see him.”

“Gross,” Tim said.”

“But appropriate,” added Jim.

Upstairs, Kim replaced her feety pajamas. She knew Bonnie liked them – that went towards most of her reasoning to wear them – but in this moment, they were a Godsend. Never had she been so happy to climb into a fluffy onesie. And that was saying something, given how comfy it was. Even a shirt felt too revealing. Anything that had the chance to come off I one fell swoop.

Not feety pajamas. They were zipped up tight.

For as confident as Bonnie was, she still knocked when she came to Kim’s door. “How’s the exhibitionist doing?”

“Regretting her birth.”

“Gonna get Wade to do his thing?”

“He already is. He saw the broadcast.”

“Ouch.”

“I trust him,” Kim replied after a moment and a deep sigh. “He’s not gonna do anything weird with the footage. He’s just gonna delete what he can and guilt-trip the media out of the rest.”

“And that’s going to work, is it?”

“Only a few got pictures and only one was recording. Wiping the footage is easy; getting the pictures is the harder part.”

That made sense, Bonnie thought. But Wade was a genius, as loathe as she was to admit it. He was invaluable to their cause. Her little Kim being sad made their time together less fun, and if he could fix that, then she had zero issues with him.

Plus… he wasn’t that bad. Bonnie might even call him a friend, on a good day.

_Might._

But she still had her ‘wee lassie’, as Duff would put it. All wrapped and ready for Bonnie to pick apart. Physically too, if Kim ever decided to get a pair of golf balls of her own.

“You’re coming downstairs,” Bonnie suddenly announced. “We’re finishing that movie.”

“U-Uh… sure,” came Kim reply, rather quietly. “Sure,” she added, rubbing the back of her head.

Bonnie knew that tone; insecure, uncomfortable. Not surprising, given she had shown the goods to a good dozen or so people at the museum. Maybe more, if Wade couldn’t play catchup.

But that was why Bonnie was there. To set the girl straight.

“I’ll get you a soda and you can sleep on my boobs. I’m told they’re good for that sort of thing.”

The turn around was immediate, and Bonnie smirked. Maybe there was hope for Kim after all.

“Sure!”


End file.
